Nation of Hillmomba

Since my buddy Rebecca started her own nation, Beclakia, on
August 19 (I can't link to the exact post, just her archives), I have
been itching to do the same. Or maybe I just need better personal
hygeine. Anyhoo...I am tearing a page out of the book of Rebecca,
and starting MY own nation, too. Because I can. And because it
might annoy Rebecca.

I will call it Hillmomba. It will be some woods-within-the-woods
kind of place. We are landlocked. We've got a shotgun, a rifle,
and a 4-wheel drive, we can skin a buck, and we can run a trot
line. We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too, there
ain't too much us ol' country boys can't do. Ooops! That was
from a Hank Williams Jr. song. Here's the flag of our new nation.












Any and all people are welcome to join the nation of Hillmomba.
We don't care about color or religion or the size of your feet. As
long as you work, possess the Hillmomba attitude, and can
follow our way of life, you can be a citizen. Our philosophy is:
"Life is for living". We don't spend our days criticizing other folks.
Who cares what they are doin' as long as it doesn't affect us.
Because in Hillmomba, it's all about US.

Do we care if people want to carry little dogs around in purses
and refuse to eat meat? H*** no! That's kind of entertaining.

I declare myself to be Emperor. I hear that I am getting some
new clothes, but that's supposed to be a surprise. I don't want
to be called the "Empress," because to me that sounds like a
sissy Emperor. Not that there's anything wrong with sissies,
but it wouldn't be fitting for the person in charge of the nation
to seem weak. We wouldn't want to be overthrown by
Beclakians.

I am appointing some of our famous citizens to be Goodwill
Ambassadors. Please welcome them: Mr. Jeff Foxworthy,
who needs no introduction, but will give himself one anyway.
And...Ms. Gretchen Wilson, our most esteemed 8th-grade
drop-out.

Hillmomba will get money necessary for running the nation from
our exports: elbow grease, crystal meth, and bigfoot trucks.
We will find it necessary to import Walmart goods, Budweiser
products, and good sense.

There will be no crime in Hillmomba. Since everybody is armed,
nobody will try thievin' or murderin'. If they do, well, karma is a
b****, they say.

We are not uneducated, contrary to popular opinion. However,
once a child reaches the age of 13, and acts up at school, he/she
will be expelled, and expected to work. Johnny won't be so feisty
after a long day at the meth lab.

We will also offer continuing education classes at the Hillmomba
campus of The Learning Annex. Here, we hope to enlighten
those who immigrate to Hillmomba. Some upcoming course
offerings are:

Puttin' on Airs Can Make You Dizzy
(from that slap upside your head)
Fish: It's Supposed to be Cooked
Hugging Trees Can Give You Splinters in Tender Places
A Bus Can Be a Home
Nascar Decor
How to Stop Taking Yourself so Seriously
Cheese is Cheese (American and Velveeta are all you need)
The Art of Deep-Frying
"Fitty:" Man or Myth
101 Uses for Left-Over Car Parts
Untangling the Branches of Your Family Tree
(guest lecturer Grandpa Dad)

Hillmomba's infrastructure will be improved gradually, on
a 25-year plan. The deer trails will give way to cedar-chip
paths, then gravel roads, then blacktop, then concrete.
A system of underground trails through caves will be
mapped for winter travel. Crystal-clear well water will
be pumped to each house. The tin-can telephone system
will be a vast improvement for Cingular Wireless users.

There will be no banking system. Citizens may keep
their money in a sock in the backyard, or do away with
cash entirely and utilize Hillmomba's barter economy.
Our financial policies will be based on the vocal stylings
of our national band: The Ozark Mountain Daredevils.
The main tenet is: "Don't you ever buy a new one and pay
on time, it you can get a used one for a dime."

The Hillmombian creed comes from honorary Hillmombian
Dolly Parton, who penned the classic, "Shattered Image."
It goes a little something like this:

"If you live in a glass house, don't throw stones.
Don't shatter my image 'til you look at your own.
Look at your reflection in your house of glass.
Don't open my closet if your own's full of trash."

We are crazy for that song, because hey, it is exciting to
shatter something, throwing stones is fun, and what's not
to like about trash? It's more interesting than that "Do
unto others..." thingy.

For anyone who would like to start the immigration process,
the line forms to the left. Your other left. Fill out the form,
and we will get back to you. A one-time fee of 1 large bag
of pork rinds and 1 large Sonic Cherry Diet Coke must
be paid at the time you move in. This fee is non-refundable.

Welcome, all, to Hillmomba!